Changing Hearts and Minds
by PGMbiggun
Summary: When the Lone Wanderer is brought to New Vegas, he eagerly accepts a new task. When he meets his quarry, however, his excitement may not remain.
1. New Places, New Faces

A lone man, bound and trapped in a dark, damp room, slowly awoke. As his senses returned, he quickly became aware of his looked quickly around, searching for anything to help escape the rough binding eating at the flesh on his wrists. As he examined the room, the heavy metal door slid open. A balding man walked in, a red tunic covering him. He was joined by two men in similar dress, black football padding adorning their shoulders and rags covering their faces, both carrying M4A1 carbines. The balding man said, "Untie him."

One of the men quickly moved behind the chair, quickly undoing the ropes. The balding man looked around, and said, "Carson Liambas…"

"How the fuck do you know who I am?"

The man behind Carson punched him in the back of the head, and growled, "Don't interrupt."

Carson glared at the man, but held his tongue. The balding man replied, "My frumentarii tell me everything. They especially noted to me your feats in the Capital Wasteland. You were a dangerous man, it seems. A virtual one man army."

"Cut to the chase," Carson spat.

The man raised his fist for another swing, but the balding man raised his hand. "I expected that. He's not a man known to be patient. My offer is simple. A courier was recently attacked near Goodsprings, and has a case of retrograde amnesia. Normally, I wouldn't much care, however this one is special. I want you to have her support my Legion, by any means necessary. If she will not, destroy her."

"What's in it for me?"

"Always the mercenary," the man chuckled, "A place high in my order, dominion over the Strip, and anything you may desire."

"When do I start?" Carson asked without a second thought.

The man grinned, and said, "Excellent. Your things are in the trunk in the corner. Join me outside when you are ready."

The man gestured to the soldiers, and all three left. Carson quickly went to the lone trunk in the back corner, and threw it open. Inside was a suit of black combat armor, a duster, and a duffle bag. He rapidly donned the armor, securing it tightly. He looked down, and skimmed the suit to ensure it was all intact. His eyes were drawn to the left breastplate, where the faded white talon insignia had been replaced by a golden bull. Carson slid his reinforced combat duster over the armor, pockets clinking with ammunition and other items. Beneath where the duster sat in the trunk, there was a black helmet. Stuffed inside, there was Carson's trademark skull balaclava and a pair of aviator sunglasses. He donned all three items, and pulled out the duffle bag. Inside, he discovered his tools of choice. A Xuan Long assault rifle, which was slung over his shoulders, his trusty, weather beaten Colt M1911, which was holstered at his waist, and an assortment of fragmentation, incendiary, and flash bang grenades, which were hung in special loops on his duster. Liambas hung the duffle across his back, and left the room.


	2. Getting the Lay of the Land

Carson walked leisurely up I-15, his arm resting on his rifle and a cigarette in his mouth. In the distance, he saw the metal snake of a rollercoaster in a town called Primm. He'd been walking for a few hours now, listening to Radio New Vegas and admiring the Mojave. As Liambas neared a dilapidated building, a police station by the cars in front of it, he was approached by a dirty man in ratty clothes and a wild eyed woman in metal armor. The woman leveled her repeater rifle at Carson's head, causing him to stop. She spat, shakily, "Give us your caps!"

Carson calmly took the grip of his rifle, and stated simply, "Walk away."

"What was that, punk?" the man said, a knife held tightly in his left hand.

"I said, walk away."

The man rushed Liambas, but was stopped short. Liambas grabbed the knife hand, and turned it 180 degrees, snapping the brittle bone. The man cried out in pain, and the woman shrieked, "You're fucking dead!"

Before the woman could pull the trigger, a .45 caliber bullet nestled between her eyes, killing her. The dirty man tried punching Carson, but he simply grabbed the man's throat and squeezed the life from him. Carson quickly searched the bodies, only finding a 200 year old pack of smokes. He continued on, watching for more highwaymen along the way. Another person wasn't until the outskirts of Primm, where a man in brown fatigues approached him, and said sternly, "Hey! Whaddya think you're doing?"

"I'm taking this basket of cakes to my grandmother's house," Carson said sarcastically, as he continued walking.

The soldier ran up, hand on his pistol, and stopped Carson, "Look, smartass, I get it. You don't answer to me, but the NCR has this area locked down."

"I'm just going through, stand down."

Carson began to walk again, but the soldier tried shoving him back. Instead, the soldier's hand slipped, moving the duster from its resting place on the left breastplate. The soldier's eyes flew to the golden bull, and went wide. His pistol flew from his holster and leveled with Carson's head. The soldier began to shout, as he backed away, about needing help. Carson rolled his eyes, and started to walk. As he moved through the cracked, rubble strewn underpass, Liambas realized he was being watched. On the buildings above, figures had taken positions, rifles following him. Carson shook his head, and continued through the town.


	3. Not the Warmest of Welcomes

"Welcome to Goodsprings. Can I get you anything?" a weary bartender asked Carson as he took a seat at the bar of the Prospector Saloon.

"Nuka Cola," he said, as he slowly scanned the room.

The bartender opened the bottle with a hiss, and set it in front of Carson. As he took his first drink, he heard the front door open. A black man, in a blue button down shirt and worn jeans walked in and up to the bar. The bartender walked over, and the two talked quietly for a few moments before the newcomer slammed his fists onto the counter, and yelled, "Where the fuck is he, pencilneck?"

"Look, I told you I don't know." the bartender answered bluntly.

"Where's your boss?"

"Not here."

"Well, fucken' get 'er!"

"Can't."

The newcomer drew a pistol from his hip, and put it to the bartender's head, "Now. Bring. Me. Trudy!"

Shakily, the bartender squeaked, "I really can't! She left a week ago for Vegas, and I don't know when she'll be back."

The newcomer dragged the bartender over the bar, and held him in the cliché hostage position. He turned towards Carson, and spat, "You!"

Carson simply continued sipping at his drink, ignoring the situation next to him. The man roared, "Boy, you better pay me some attention, or I'll redecorate this bar!"

"Then shoot him," Carson said mockingly.

The bartender shrieked in disbelief, "What?"

"The gun's not loaded. He doesn't look like one to be too bright."

The guntoter threw the bartender away, and sprinted at Carson. Carson smacked his bottle onto the man's head, knocking him to the floor, and spraying glass and soda onto the attacker. The man groaned, and Carson asked the bartender, "Could I have one for the road?"

He shakily got another bottle, opened it, and handed it to Carson. Carson dropped 20 caps to the counter, "Now, I need some information."

"Anything."

"Where's the courier that got attacked?"

"Out back, with Sunny."

"Keep the change," Carson said, as he walked out the front door, dragging the incapacitated man with him.

He propped the man up against the front of the building, and began to walk around between the saloon and the general store next door. As he walked, he began to see two female figures, one holding rifle and the other helping to aim. Suddenly, he heard the rifle's report and felt a bullet whiz by his head. He instinctively drew his pistol, and pressed himself against the saloon's outer wall. From the direction of the women, he heard a light, high pitched, "Sorry!"

Carson relaxed, holstered his pistol, and walked towards the women. One was a mid-height, black haired, thinly built girl no older than 24. The other was a taller, brunette, stocky woman of about 27. The shorter said, "I'm really sorry about that. I'm a horrible shot."

Carson walked closer, "I've had worse," he said, as he extended his hand, "Carson Liambas."

She shyly took his hand, "Haley Bell. Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's mine. And, hello to you, Miss…"

"Smiles. Sunny Smiles," she said, as she looked at the sky, "Oh no, I need to go. Haley, pick this up tomorrow?"

"Alright. Can I practice here in the mean time?"

"Sure. Just don't shoot anyone," Sunny laughed, as she started to walk off.

"I can help teach you," Carson offered, as Haley shouldered her rifle again.

"Would you?" she asked.

"Absolutely. First, you need to hold your rifle firmly, but not too tightly," Carson said, as he slowly reached around her, and squeezed her hands tighter on the gun, "Now, try and hit the far right bottle."

Haley fired, and the bullet skimmed the side of the bottle, sending it spiraling off the fence. "Hey, I actually hit it!" she cheered, jumping up and down.

"Very good," Carson said, "but you can do better."

"How?"


	4. Trouble in a Tiny Town

Haley knocked the last bottle off the fence, and beamed at Carson, "I can shoot!"

Carson smiled at her, amused, "Good job. I think this is where we call it quits for today, it's getting late. Oh no...Haley! Get behind me!"

She looked around, worried, "Okay, but why?"

"Just do it," he said sternly, bringing his rifle into his hands.

Haley scurried behind him, her rifle clutched tightly to her. Carson watched the alley between the bar and store, as three men in blue, armed with Cz. 75 pistols and dynamite, approached. Carson quickly recognized the middle man as the man he'd struck in the bar earlier. Carson yelled, "Stop moving!"

The man only grinned sadistically, and kept walking. Carson shouldered his rifle, and aimed at the middle man. The man grabbed for his pistol, so Carson fired five rounds, pulping the man's head. As he turned to the man on the left, a yellow streak fell across his view. He turned, and flung himself on Haley. He covered her, and the dynamite exploded. His head swimming and ears ringing, Carson tried to stand back up. A boot struck his back, and he fell with a grunt. Cold steel pressed against the back of his skull, and he winced. As his hearing slowly returned, he heard the crack of a gunshot nearby. The man on his back crumpled, and he quickly rolled from under the body. Haley was sitting nearby, rifle smoking in her hands, and a look of shock on her face. Carson said to her, "You okay?"

She answered, in a barely audible whisper, "Yeah. Someone's watching us."

"How do you know?"

"The other guy got shot, but it wasn't me."

"As long as it's not us getting shot at. Help me up."

Haley quickly got up, dropped her rifle, and walked over to where Carson was lying. She offered her hand, so Carson took it, and tried to stand. He barely put weight on his left leg, when it gave out, and he tumbled back to the dirt with a grimace. "Well, shit," he muttered.

Haley gave him a look of concern, and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Something's wrong with my leg. Got a stim?"

She reached into the pocket of her jumpsuit, just as a small group of townspeople, armed with shotguns and rifles, similar to Haley's varmint rifle, and lanterns. They all looked afraid, but ready to fight. One, a stern looking woman, stepped up, and said, "What the hell is going on out here!"

Carson rolled onto his back again, and grunted, "A fight."

"Well, we heard that!"

Haley said, "Look over there," as she pointed to the alley nearby, "and you'll see what happened."

The group all looked, and saw the two bodies, and Carson crawled, as best he could, to reveal the third. The woman said, "You managed to kill Joe Cobb, eh?"

"I'd be happy to share all the details, just as soon as I get a stimpak to help with the shrapnel wounds in my leg."

Haley pulled her hand from her pocket, revealing a stimpak. Carson took the stim, and stuck his leg with it. After a few seconds, he pulled the syringe out, stood, and slipped it into his pocket. "Now, what were you out here doing?"

"I was teaching the lady here to shoot, when these three assholes decided to try and kill us. We only protected ourselves."

The woman looked around a bit, said nothing, and walked off. The militia went their separate ways, grumbling about being roused from their dinners. Carson sighed, and looked around. He noticed a boarded up gas station nearby, and watched as a light appeared while the sun set. He regarded the structure, until he was drawn away by a conversation nearby. Haley was talking to a hulking, weathered blue robot, with a cowboy face set on a TV screen, and a slight accent. He watched for a minute, when the robot suddenly rolled off on its one wheel. Haley walked back over, and said, "That robot saved my life. He dug me out of a shallow grave."

"A shallow grave?"

"Some men attacked me," she said as she moved part of her hair from her forehead, revealing a large scar, "and tried to hide my body. The big robot, Victor, dug me out and took me to Doc Mitchell."

"That's something."

"Yeah...Worst part is, I can't remember a lot of things. I remember the attack, but it's spotty."

Carson grunted, and said, "Well, it's getting late. Is there an inn anywhere here?"

"Not as far as I know, unfortunately. I can ask Doc Mitchell if he has a spare place you can stay."


	5. Getting Settled In

"Alright," Carson said, and followed as Haley started towards a house on a hill.

The two walked across the town, and stopped at the bottom of a small hill. A worn cobblestone path made a straight line up the hill in front of them, and passed through a worn, white gate. Beyond a weathered, white picket fence, quietly sat a weathered house, and an older man in a rocking chair on the porch. The two slowly walked up the path, as the man called, "How you feelin', Haley?"

"Better than ever, Doc. This is my friend, Carson. Do you have a place he might be able to sleep?"

"Of course, as long as he doesn't mind the couch," the man chuckled, his white mustache moving slightly.

Carson rested against the support of the porch, and said, "Not at all, thanks."

"Well, come on in. No sense standing out here, it's goin' to be cold tonight," Doc Mitchell said cheerfully, as he rose from his rocking chair.

The group walked into the house, where Doc Mitchell began to talk and gesture, "Carson, your couch is straight ahead here. Over there is the bathroom for whenever you need it. The kitchen is on the opposite side, and there's more food in that room than I'll ever eat, so help yourself if'n you're feeling peckish."

Carson looked around, as his natural habit was. He noticed the back door to the house was boarded up, preventing it from opening. Most of the windows were in the same shape, only letting in slivers of what light remained outside. He dropped his rucksack near the couch, and shed his duster, resting it atop the bag. He turned towards the other two, who were talking in the hall, and approached them. They both turned to look at him, as he extended his hand to Doc Mitchell, "I didn't introduce myself. Carson Liambas."

"Doctor Albert Mitchell. Sorry 'bout the state of some of the townsfolk, they've all just been scared on account of the Powder Gangers."

"Powder Gangers, sir?" Carson asked.

"Yessir. The New California Republic Correctional Facility is just about a mile up the main road, here. They managed a breakout, and have been harassing the town lately. Something about finding a man named Ringo. Trudy could tell you more, she's the fine lady who approached you earlier. She's kind of a motherly figure in the town."

Haley chimed in, "I know she seemed abrasive earlier, she was just being protective. She worries about the Gangers destroying the town. She's wary of new people."

Carson asked, "Where can I find her? I'd like to ask about Ringo."

Doc Mitchell sat in an armchair on the far end of the couch, "She runs the Prospector Saloon, can usually find her helping the town drunks to the bottom of a bottle. She's probably there now, if'n you hurry."

Carson took his duster, throwing it back on over his armor. He checked his holster, making sure his Colt was in securely, and started for the door. Haley followed after him, "Wait, I'll go with you. She seems to have taken a liking to me, maybe I can earn you some points. Your first meeting with her wasn't exactly in the best of situations."


End file.
